Race to Erase
by charliespike18
Summary: 'How do you do it' A simple question, whispered across a bar - 5 am, shift nearly over. Teddy doesn't know what it means. Tequila stings the throat, the eyes; a tear, in existence only a second, then blinked away. The whisper comes again, a moment later, and this time her eyes flick up. Meredith. - After 14x02, Teddy and Meredith muse on their losses


'How do you do it?'

A simple question, whispered across a bar - 5 am, shift nearly over. Teddy doesn't know what it means.

Tequila stings the throat, the eyes; a tear, in existence only a second, then blinked away.

The whisper comes again, a moment later, and this time her eyes flick up. Meredith. She's two seats away, a drink nursed by a soul who needed it, tonight, more than they ever needed it.

'How do I do what?' she asks, trying to catch the eye of the barman who is too busy with someone else to notice her hand, slow, waving for a fraction of a second.

'Look at Megan and not wonder.'

She doesn't know what to say to that. Meredith does, with that distance still between them. They are not friends, never have been. Once, maybe, but no - they just shared friends, Cristina, half a world away now, and Mark, half an existence. Never friends, always one seat away, never too close.

'When Nathan found out, do you know what I said to him?' Meredith's voice is low, as if she speaks higher, louder, then something within her will break. Teddy supposes it will. The tequila shot wasn't enough, nor the vodka downed in a hurry. Nothing would be enough for this. There is never a time to have this conversation. Guilt begins to rear its head, but she buries it, listens to Meredith instead.

'No,' a crisp, clear reply. Definite, certain. Meredith goes on regardless, voice lilting like the sea. It's obvious to Teddy that she just wants to say it, to get it out. It seems something pulling, pushing, begging to be released. There's a pause, a hitch in the air. It doesn't seem the same anymore, is that right?

She only says eight words, but it tilts the landscape, colours the view for them both. A universal truth, maybe, that's what Meredith says. 'If this were Derek, I'd already be gone.'

And in that moment, Teddy knows why. Why this woman, this near stranger, has sought her in a bar far too early in the morning. A universal truth yes, but only universal to those who have lost, who have felt the same pain, walked through the same dark days.

'You don't understand,' Teddy says back, spitting anger not meant for Meredith. She has no idea who it is meant for, not anymore (Correction, revision, edit, please - she's made a mistake: she knows who is it for, it's just that ghosts are so very futile to be angry at). 'I'm happy for Nathan,' she fumbles, lies easy from her lips.

'Oh,' Meredith says. 'I'm happy for him. It's hard not to wonder, though, is it?'

'Wonder what?' Teddy replies, that anger still lingering. It's got nowhere to go, it never has - once, she directed it at Owen, at Cristina, at people who didn't deserve the venom vicious from her tongue.

'Why is it that she can come back, when my husband can't. That Riggs felt everything we felt and now he doesn't.'

'It didn't cross my mind.'

Liar, barefaced, crumbling under it all. Of course she wondered, she looked at Megan, sitting where Henry had once sat, and thought - why her, why now, why do you get to come back from the dead. But she'd painted a smile onto her face and walked through corridors that had haunted her nightmares, pretended because that was what a good friend did. The guilt, stinging and fresh, threatens once more. Teddy should be happy, isn't everyone else?

Not Meredith, she thinks, not completely.

Not Amelia, Owen's bride.

They have all lost, they see the unfairness where they shouldn't. They see a happy ending they will never get, something they will never be allowed. Their pain is permanent, it marks their skin, the very fabric of their beings. Aren't they all the same, Teddy wonders, under the skin and bone and blood; their hearts all beat the same, one note wrong, a little out of tune.

'You know,' Meredith says, 'it's alright to say it hurts.'

Teddy takes a deep breath, shoves the glass away from her, stares down. Meredith's words echo for a long time. If it were Henry, walking these halls, breathing, damaged, but alive - Teddy would be beaming, laughing along with him. She doesn't begrudge Nathan, nor Owen, but she wishes - on stars that are not here, on candles that went out a long time ago - that it wasn't Megan, but Henry.

But no. Guilt. She must not feel like this. Be happy, Megan is alive. Megan is alive and isn't that fantastic. It is; the smile isn't fake, not really, just a little extra for show.

Meredith orders another drink, adds one for Teddy along the way. She slides it across, bridging the gap between them.

'A toast?' she says, but Teddy doesn't know what she means.

'To who?'

A shrug, eyes intense on hers. There is a list, surely, a husband or two, a sister here, an old friend there. All they have lost, unable to compute, a list far too long for two women still so young. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where Henry is still here, not a ghost who will never leave her alone. But it's just a good story, isn't it?

What's wrong with a story, she wonders. She and Henry were a good story, once upon a time. Meredith and Derek were too. Megan just happened to be one with a happy ending.

Meredith is looking at her again. Teddy picks up the glass, empty, now, and stares at it, avoiding, ignoring.

Aren't they all stories, in the end?

'To Henry,' Teddy says, after the pause, voice stronger than it has been in a long time, 'and to Derek, because they're gone. To Megan, because she's still here.'

So they raise their glasses, side by side, but still that little bit apart. The sun joins them, rises too, a new day.

Tequila stings the throat, the eyes; a tear, in existence only a second, then blinked away.

'We're alright, aren't we?' Teddy says.

'Yeah,' Meredith says. 'We are.'


End file.
